Mandy M. Roth - Magic Under Fire (Over a Dozen Tales of Urban Fantasy)

by Unknown

  “It’s really dark in here,” Emma said.

  He reached up and opened another hatch in the roof. Sunlight filtered into the small room. A bedroll and blankets were in the corner along with a small satchel.

  Keir opened the container. He pulled out a thick brown strip of dried meat. He smiled at Emma. “Dinner is served.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Is that some kind of jerky?”

  “It’s dried elk. We smoke and salt it for the winter. It makes good provisions as well. He pulled out a bottle.

  “Water?” Emma asked.

  “Not exactly,” Keir said. “It’s a fermented fruit juice. It also keeps well in the winter.”

  Emma raised her brow. “You trying to get me drunk?”

  Her petulant expression made his pulse quicken. “Maybe.”

  “You know,” she said, grabbing the bottle. She pulled the cork off. “After what we just went through today, I can seriously use a drink.” She took a pull, sputtering as the liquid spilled into her mouth. “That’s… that’s… Jesus, that burns.”

  “It’s not for those with a weak constitution.”

  “My constitution is plenty tough.” She took another drink, gasping after she swallowed. She handed the bottle to Keir. “I rarely drink alcohol. Dulls the senses.” Whatever this stuff was hit her hard. Her mind went fuzzy, and she felt giddy.

  Suddenly, she giggled. “You know, you’re very cute.”

  “Uhm, thanks.”

  “Cute. Handsome. Hot.”

  “You find me attractive.”

  She took another swig. “Bingo! But you know I’ve never…” She wiggled her brows. “You know. Done the deed.”

  “The deed,” he said. Realization dawned on his face. “Ah. You’ve never been bedded? Good. I would hate to have to kill your other lovers.”

  Emma giggled again. She fanned herself with her hands. “Whew. Things are getting homicidal. Someone call the cops.” She sobered for a moment. “I killed someone.”

  He stroked her cheek. “You were very brave.”

  “I’ve never even seen a dead body. Let alone made a dead body.” Her eyes were red and watery. “I don’t want to kill anyone else.”

  “I hope you won’t have to, Emma. But this is the world I live in.”

  “I’m so tired,” she said. “I’ve been up for two days, and I can’t think. My brain is so foggy.”

  “That’s partly the drink.” He pulled out the bedroll and laid it out, layering it with the two blankets. “Here,” he said. “Lie down.”

  Emma crawled onto the makeshift bed. She curled up on her side. “Will you hold me?” Her voice was quiet. Small. Like that of a child. It broke Keir’s heart.

  He crawled behind Emma and wrapped his arms around her. “I’ll hold you as long as you want.”

  “Forever,” she mumbled.

  Keir kissed the top of her head, once again enjoying the scent of strawberries and lilacs. “Forever it is.” In a few minutes, her breathing evened out, and she began to snore.

  10

  Emma awoke to the songs of tree frogs. The air was cool, but she was warm against Keir’s body. Sometime while she slept, she’d turned toward him. Moonlight streamed in through the opening in the ceiling, bathing his face with a blue glow. He’d taken off his vest, and, impulsively, she ran her fingers through the soft curls on his chest. God, he made her feel reckless. And excited. She tilted her head, her nose slid against the crook of his neck. He smelled earthy and masculine.

  His hands moved along her back. When she tilted her head, his eyes were open, and he was staring at her.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hello. You are a sound sleeper.”

  “Not usually.” Even with the attack, she’d felt safe with Keir. That sense of security had allowed her to let go and completely rest. “I’m lost in your world. I still find it hard to believe any of this is real.”

  “You’re cheeks are still pink.” He brushed at her face with this thumb. “What made you rub the leaves all over your skin?”

  “It worked to deflect the shit they were throwing at me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I can’t believe you guys never thought of this before. I’d be making soaps and lotions out of that witchvine leaf.”

  “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Hello,” Emma said, waving a hand in front of Keir’s face. “I’m living, unscorched proof it does.”

  “No,” Keir said. “It really doesn’t work that way. I don’t know what protected you from the witches, but it wasn’t the leaves.”

  “That’s weird.”

  “Well, I don’t care what kept you safe.” He stroked her hair. “As long as you are. I couldn’t bear if anything happened to you.”

  She could see the stars through the opening in the roof. “If it weren’t for me running away last night…”

  “So you admit you ran away, not escaped,” he teased.

  “Yes, okay. I’ll admit that you probably weren’t holding me captive.”

  “I gave you my bed. Would I do that for a prisoner?”

  “Really?” The furnishing had been sparse. Not the type of luxury you’d see in the quarters of someone in charge. Still…he’d put her in his bed. A hot tingle ran over her skin as she remembered all the ways he’d wanted to claim her. Emma, her mouth dry, blinked. Her emotions ran the gambit between lust and guilt. Whatever had brought her to this strange, foreign world had nothing to do with Keir. “The point is,” she finally said. “You’d be back with your people now. Safe in your camp. Not out here in a treetop hiding, if it weren’t for me.”

  KEIR HAD NEVER FELT the connection that Toland had for Lis or Thadeus for Amile. Only now did he realize how lonely and miserable he’d been without it. Emma didn’t seem to realize how truly precious or important she was to him. How could she believe for one second he wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t by her side?

  “Keir,” she said his name in a throaty whisper that rushed blood to his groin. When she brought her hand to his cheek, and blue flames danced on her fingertips, he startled as it tickled his skin.

  Emma jerked her hand back. “What the hell?”

  The alarm in her eyes matched his fear.

  “Jesus.” She scrambled out of his grasp. “What the hell is happening to me?” The flickering indigo blaze flowed along her skin. “It feels warm, but not searing hot like it should. My hands should be melting. Did I hurt you?”

  “You didn’t hurt me,” he said, but he didn’t try to approach her. The fire was spell craft. He could feel it as it raised the hair on his arms. Earlier, he’d have sworn Emma didn’t have an ounce of witch in her, but the proof was flowing over her palms.

  “Maybe it’s some kind of illusion, not real fire.” She touched the edge of the blanket, and the wool sizzled as it took the flame. “Oh, crap.” She stood up and stomped at the embers. “It’s real. What is this?”

  “It’s elemental magic, Emma.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “It means you’re a witch.”

  She put her hand on her stomach, her shirt untouched by the flames as if his words punched her in the gut like the blunt end of a blade. “It isn’t possible. I’m human. I’m not a witch. I don’t know any magic.”

  He wanted to reassure her, but the glaring proof lit up around her. “But you do.”

  “This means…this means we can’t be…I can’t be your mate.”

  Keir stared at her, his expression stoically blank. It was his worst fear realized. He’d finally had a metaphysical bond with another person, and she was looking more and more like the enemy. He felt betrayed.

  “Say something.”

  When he didn’t, she grabbed the witchvine from where he’d set the length in the corner of the room. The fire on her hands went out. “It’s a coincidence. It doesn’t mean anything. Please, Keir,” she begged. “Tell me it doesn’t mean anything.” She tied the vine around her waist.

  Hi
s expression faltered. “Who sent you to me, Emma?”

  “No one.” She crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing her shoulders as if warding a chill. “I swear it, Keir. I swear I’m not of this world of yours. I don’t know why I can do…magic.”

  Her body language, eye contact, and words all rang with truth, but Keir was more than ninety-years old. He’d watched the witches destroy wolfkind villages, killing indiscriminately, and doing any disgusting thing to wipe out his people. He’d watched them fry his parents with a combination of water and lightning spells. Was Emma lying to him? He didn’t think so. Did believing Emma make him a fool? Probably. Would his people forgive him for mating with a witch? Definitely not. Was this strange and unusual beauty worth the battle? His heart thought so.

  He stood up, stooping so his head wouldn’t hit the ceiling, and he wrapped Emma in his arms. “We’ll figure this out.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yes,” he said, his fingers soothingly stroking her back. He leaned to her ear and whispered fiercely, “Even if it means leaving my people.”

  “No,” Emma said. “You can’t. I can’t be the reason you part ways with your family. The people you care about. Who care about you. I won’t let you.”

  “This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault, Emma. It’s the world we live in. We are at war, and it doesn’t stop for anything.” Not even love. “I have lived my life fearless. Every day, from the death of my parents on, I’ve known that every morning I wake up might be my last. But the moment I touched you, I was afraid for the first time.” When he saw the stricken look in her eyes, he shook his head. “Again, not your fault. You are important to me. Too important to lose. I would give my life for you. I have been a steel rod of strength and power for my people, but I would bend if it meant saving you.” He tipped her head back and kissed her soft, bow lips. “You will be my family. My home.”

  “You are the leader of your people, Keir. More important than I am.”

  He yanked her against him, anguished by the soft push of her breasts against his stomach, her hot breath on his chest. “Nothing is more important than you are,” he said fiercely. “Nothing.”

  Emma’s hands wrapped around him, her fingers exploring his back. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze with an expression that made his heart skip a beat.

  “Tell me again, Keir.” Her lips softened. “Tell me what you want from me.”

  He stared down into her dark blue eyes, unable and unwilling to turn from her—to deny her. “I want to bathe in your scent.” He buried his face against the crux of her neck, inhaling the earthy scent of her desire. “I want to caress your skin.” He pulled her shirt over her head and slid her leggings down her thighs. Her panties were black lace with barely any material. A lusty growl rose from his chest.

  “Yes,” she said, her breath becoming a pant.

  Keir yanked her to his chest. “I want to feel your nakedness pressed against my flesh.” He lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding herself against his straining erection, the witchvine around her waist scratching at his skin. He ignored it. He nibbled her neck and her jawline.

  She kissed his ear, pulling the lobe between her teeth, and Keir moaned, as he resisted the urge to throw her down and take her hard and without mercy. His voice became low and hoarse. “I want to kiss your mouth.” He tugged her lower lip between his teeth as he lay her down on the blankets and covered her with his body. She was so small compared to him, he imagined he shielded her from the moon.

  He thrust his tongue into her mouth, savoring the delicious taste of her, before trailing kisses down her collarbone. He lifted his head, and his gaze drifted to her breasts. “I want to tease your nipples.” He darted his tongue over the rigid bud as he cupped the ample mound, squeezing slightly as he licked and sucked until she squirmed beneath him.

  “Please, Keir,” she pleaded, her lower body writhing against his stomach. Keir felt her wetness, could scent her lust, and he knew there was one more part of her he wanted to sample. His eyes pivoted southward. “And your sweet, sacred vessel.”

  “Yes, yes,” Emma said. “The sacred vessel.”

  He spread her wide, his tongue dipping between the folds of her heated sex. She raised her hips to give him more access, and he buried his tongue inside her. She moaned her pleasure.

  Keir kissed his way back up her stomach, licked each nipple, nibbled her collarbone, and then planted himself on top of her again. “I want to make love to you until your body explodes beneath me. I want to hear you cry for more as I seat myself deep inside you, conquering you with every thrust. I want to hear you scream my name as I plant my seed in your womb.” He went to his knees, undid his breaches, and shoved them down his thighs. He sprung erect, the tip glistening with a pearl of his passion. “I want,” he said, his voice breathless and hoarse. “You.”

  EMMA DIDN’T EVEN PAY attention to the stupid vine around her waist as it dug into her back. All she saw was Keir, and Keir’s very large and very thick length daring her to even try denying her own desire. “You’re…really big.”

  “Do you want to stop?”

  She considered his question. She was a virgin, but she wasn’t naive. Keir lived every day like it could be his last. If this was her last day, would she regret denying Keir? Yes. “No,” she said, swallowing hard. “I don’t want you to stop.”

  A rumble that vibrated his entire body reverberated from his chest. “Good,” he said, his voice thick.

  Keir spread her thighs, his fingertip dancing over her clitoris. “Jesus,” she said. Her sex throbbed with eager anticipation. He slid a finger inside her slick channel.

  “You’re so wet.” His stare was intense, otherworldly. The normal whiskey color had taken on more golds and ambers. He put his hand to his mouth and licked her from his fingers. “So good.”

  Pressure began to build in her groin as heat fled her limbs to gather at her core. “Take me, Keir. I want you in me.”

  He lifted her thighs, and she felt the press of his thickness against her opening. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Emma caressed his face. “Hurt me.”

  He forced himself inside, and every inch of him felt as if she were being split apart. Emma cried out as the pain eroded her lust.

  Keir stopped his forward motion. Emma blindly reached around him, groping at his backside to keep him from withdrawing. The pain was ebbing, but it would be nothing compared to the emptiness he would leave behind if he stopped.

  The last few inches, Keir thrust in a quick movement that buried him until their groins pressed together. His coarse curls scraped her sensitive clit. He wrapped her in his arms, her face pressing against his chest, breathing in his masculine scent as he waited for her body to adjust to his size.

  A whoosh of elation raced through Emma. She felt as if her skin, her flesh, her bones were somehow joined with Keir’s.

  “Can you feel it, too?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “I can feel it.” He smoothed her sweat dampened hair away from her face. “Be my mate, Emma Watson. Let me love you until death.”

  Tears leaked from Emma’s eyes as overwhelming joy stole her breath, quickened her heart, and dissolved any doubt. “Yes,” she said. “I’m yours.”

  He began to move then, thrusting slowly at first. It still hurt a little, but with the pain came pleasure. She clawed at Keir’s back, urging him to move faster, thrust harder.

  Keir’s hips pistoned between her thighs, his grunts and growls ignited Emma’s passions as she locked her ankles behind his knees. She moved as he moved, as the growing heat at her groin and stomach blossomed, rapture threatening to devastate her senses.

  “Keir,” she moaned. “Keir, Keir.”

  He gripped her tighter as he made inarticulate noises.

  “I…I…” He varied his stroke, and her orgasm erupted like a dormant volcano, explosive, messy, and destroying every bit of her ability to think coherently.

  A
roar ripped from Keir as he thrust hard into her once, then again, holding her until every last bit of his climax was spent. When he recovered, he gently withdrew his softening shaft and collapsed beside her on the pallet.

  “You’re my mate,” he said as if that’s all there was to say on the subject.

  “It doesn’t change the fact that I had elemental magic dancing over my fingers.”

  He pulled her into the crook of his arm. “No,” he said. “It doesn’t.”

  “I’m not a witch, Keir.” She rose up and crossed her arms over his chest, resting her chin on the back of her hand. “I’m an ordinary person from an ordinary world where werewolves and witches don’t exist.”

  “But you are here now.” He stroked the side of her face. “In this world, those are the only two species that exist.”

  “Do you think that by coming here…somehow, that it has changed me?”

  He gazed at her appraisingly. “Maybe.”

  “Is there anyone who might know?”

  His eyes averted for a moment. “There are tales of the witch of the wood. The lore claims she is as wicked as she is old.”

  “How old?”

  “No one knows. But she lived in the times before the war.”

  Emma kissed his lightly furred chest. “Why did witches and wolves start fighting in the first place?”

  “Who knows why a war starts,” he said as if repeating the party line.

  “Did the wolves or the witches attack first?”

  “The war started the day my parents were killed in a vicious attack on Surrock, our capital city. We weren’t prepared for the assault, and the witches were without mercy. I was sent to live with his second, Willen Bodyn. His son’s Toland and Thadeus became my brothers. Willen guided me until I was old enough to take the reins as Domiscin. Alpha to my people. It feels like I have spent several lifetimes at war.”

  His eyes turned wistful, sad. Emma kissed him. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

  “And your parents?” Keir asked.